


To Feel

by orphan_account



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feels, Love/Hate, Mentions of Rape, Namine draws, Support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:00:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it's best to be numb to feeling<br/>A Marluxia x Namine oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Feel

Droplets of water trickled down from the ends of his hair, his eyes looking to the floor where a puddle slowly began to form. Deep blue eyes uncaring and emotionless, devoid of feeling and fierce with grace. His arms rested on his knees, head bowed in a trance. His lips cold and closed, ears droning out the sound of draining water and the irritating humming of the golden lamp implanted in the ceiling.

The artist started at him from her perch on the counter, seemingly sympathetic and concerned for the Nobody as he lost himself to his quiet musings. She rested her open sketchbook on her lap, dainty fingers gripping a pastel pink crayon to bleach white paper. Pigments of color stained the parchment in a round motion as she began to draw.

Marluxia’s hand twitched, eyes slowly peering up at her from where he sat at the end of the tub. He surveyed her hand as she began to interpret what she saw onto paper. Whether it came from her eyes or her mind, he didn’t know. He gazed at her small form for a moment, feeling nothing but a slight hint of curiosity.

Naminé finished the first sketch in a short amount of time, shy eyes looking up to meet the graceful assassin’s interested stare. A slight pink flushed her cheeks, eyes averting to the tiled floor, “Sorry. I got sidetracked.”

Marluxia shrugged, getting up from his spot and tightening the white towel that hung loosely around his waist. “What are you drawing? Another memory?”

The small girl shook her head, “No…” she murmured, “I was drawing nobody.”

Marluxia snorted, smirking in amusement at the statement as he began to wring out the water in his hair. There was something ironic about the term ‘nobody’. He never considered himself as a Nobody, seeing how having a name and a purpose (to attain a heart) would be enough to make a nobody a somebody.

“Why are you so shy about sharing your artistic abilities, Naminé?” he asked.

“I’m not shy…it’s just-”

He glared at her, smile still in place, “You’re afraid.”

Silence.

Marluxia chuckled lightly, running an extra towel through his hair. He grabbed an ivory brush, guiding the comb through his hair until he was satisfied that every knot and tangle had completely vanished to be replaced with smooth textured perfection. Naminé slowly allowed the drawing to fall back on her lap, vulnerable for Marluxia’s curiosity as she finished a few shadings.

The older glanced down to the paper, a brow quirked. She had taken the liberty of quickly sketching out Marluxia’s form; sad and contemplative amid the pink hues. A sort of interest sparked in Marluxia’s eyes as he mumbled, “That is me, isn’t it?”

She nodded in confirmation.

“Interesting what one can do with a piece of colored wax and a product from tree bark.” he scoffed, turning his attention back to his reflection.

He looked normal like any other human being you’d see, except for the dangerous edge to his good looks. He was handsome, charismatic, desirable for the most part to any woman or man. Naminé took those facts into consideration when she looked upon him. How such a being could cause her to almost feel was beyond her. She wondered if it was because he was the only one that kept her so close in contact.

Marluxia made no further comments as he set the brush down, reaching over to pick up the hairdryer, his fingers lightly catching on the razorblades set beside it. His brows furrowed as he moved his hand up for inspection quickly, staring at the barely there slice that had been inflicted upon him. Always one of interest, he applied pressure to either side of the cut to allow fresh blood to trickle down.

He did not wince nor did he curse. He simply stared, entranced with the few drops.

“Does it hurt…?” Naminé questioned quietly.

Marluxia froze, looking back over to her lazily. “Does what hurt?”

Naminé brows furrowed as she looked to the blood.

“If I cannot feel, then why do I bleed?” Marluxia inquired, more to some unknown force than to himself or Naminé, “And when I bleed, why is it that I do not feel an immense amount of pain? Only a slight discomfort before the sting disperses and is healed with time and darkness.”

The wound slowly began to mend, dark wisps of shadows enveloping the cut and causing it to close over.

“No pain, no unease.” he sighed, “Boring…It’s what not having a heart is.” The man looked down at the assorted items on the counter, glaring at them for some answers.

“It must hurt to not be able to cry…to never be satisfied or have that feeling of fulfillment and joy.” there was a pronounced theme of pity in her speech as Naminé looked to him, speaking softly and slowly. “…To have no reason to live…to merely exist as you are. A mirror image of someone else and to have memories that never belonged to you but to another…”

Marluxia stared at his reflection, lips closed and eyes narrowed.

“You do think about your former self, right? About maybe loved ones you had and of what life was like when you were complete and human.” her voice cracked a little as she looked down at her drawing. “I look at you and the others and I can’t help but to feel sorry for all of you. You, who have and feel nothing.”

His hands balled into fists against the counter. “Shut up…” he whispered. He didn’t need to hear this. He didn’t need to be reminded of who or what he wasn’t.

“I’m sure it’s frustrating. I know you probably even question why you, of all people, had to be thrown into such a situation. It must be weird to know that you’re practically a clone of another human being. And while they were able to live and feel, you are unable to even grasp a momentary satisfaction or self-fulfillment.” The words flowed from her lips relentlessly, her eyes almost tearing over. She wasn’t so sure if she was just speaking about Marluxia or about her own self anymore.

“To be nothing…” she added in a murmur.

His hand was raised then, ready to strike her against the face before stopping within a few millimeters, eyes wide and angry as he glared down at her. “Do not speak to me as if I am your inferior. I am not worthless.”

She stared up at him, eyes filled with fear as she tried to calculate his face expression.

Marluxia could deny everything over and over again. He could yell and beat her into the tiled floor until white was streaked with red. He could move between her and rip off her beautiful clothes, pinning her against the wall to fuck her again and again until her body became numb and unresponsive. He could tear her drawings into millions of pieces, throw her paints and pencils against the walls. He could shove her against the mirror and allow the shards of glass to cut through their skin and remind them that they weren't dead.

Nor were they exactly living.

He could scream and yell that everything was fine.

That he was fine.

That having no heart was all right.

But deep down, Naminé knew that it bothered him. It scratched at the back of his mind and clawed at the shreds of being he held. A constant irritation when food became unsatisfying, drinks became unnecessary, kisses became another movement of skin and sex only permitted a momentary escape before fleeting just as quickly as it came.

Marluxia hated what he was.

The only feeling he could best associate with was hatred. Hatred for what he was and for why he was existing. Hatred for not having more power. Hatred to the living and those that felt alive.

She set her sketchbook to the side, arms reaching up to wrap around his slumped shoulders. His eyes were narrowed, body lax as she moved him against her in a warm embrace. His body did not shake, nor did his eyes fill with tears. His arms wrapped around her loosely and in that moment, she knew he was silently mourning.

Mourning for an existence that was never meant to be.

She smoothed some of his wet long hair down, listening intently to his breathing as her blue eyes gazed back over at her quick sloppy sketch. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to tell who the subject of interest was.

Marluxia; proud, selfish, and strong.

Beautiful, silent, and deadly.

Cold, handsome, and calculating.

Marluxia, the strongest inhabitant of the Castle Oblivion and holding the title of the Graceful Assassin. A Nobody with great power and skilled in the art of fighting. A grim reaper with the smell of new life, wielding his scythe amid a storm of knife-like petals. A being that, once alone, stayed within the confines of his room to gaze at the containers of slowly growing plants. An eye for great and rare beauty as he nurtured roses of remarkable beauty and lulled the flowers to blossom in his presence.

A being whom envied the life of his own plants and deprived them of life-giving water to watch them wilt and die in hopes that he could reap their own essence for himself.

Marluxia; Broken, secretive, and lonesome.

The man she both hated to love and loved to hate.

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt from LJ which was simply 'Feel'. Mentions of past rape and abuse in this fic, so I put it under M just in case.  
> (Written in 2007)


End file.
